Draco Malfoy's history of poor decision-making continues after the war, when he returns to Hogwarts under strict probation. Bored and restless, he decides to cast the infamous Vanishing Cabinet spell to link his bed with the bed of a willing witch...
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Draco stood before his wardrobe mirror and straightened his already-straight black silk tie. Something was off. Different. He tried to frown, but a tiny smile lingered around the edges of his mouth. Not a smirk, a smile. He tried to curl his lip but his mouth kept widening. Salazar, he was showing teeth!
Enough of this, I look fine. He looked better than fine. And as for that odd set to his mouth, well, had he not just been shagged the day before—repeatedly—and this morning as well before Hermione had Portkeyed off again? After weeks of tooth-grinding sexual frustration? And shagged properly, not just quick grabs in a classroom or alcove? And with the prospect of more shagging to come, with ... and what the fuck was happening to his face?
Draco considered skivving off morning classes to go flying on this beautiful day (beautiful day?). No, he would go to breakfast. He needed to keep up his strength.
But the doors to the Great Hall were closed when he arrived; students milled around the Entrance Hall, hungry and curious. Rumor spoke of some sort of muffin incident within, and the Ravenclaws drew many resentful stares.
So he joined Daphne and Blaise by the Hourglass Cabinet, where the Slytherin glass made a poor showing beside the Hufflepuffs' pile of yellow topazes. There was no sign of Hermione or Theo in the restless crowd. Daphne and Blaise were distracted: Daphne was tracing the lines on her palm while Blaise reviewed a bit of parchment and murmured about square footage.
Content to wait, Draco leaned against the cabinet, hands in his pockets. The warmth of the water, the foam on her skin, his hand entwined in soft, sopping curls ...
"Mr. Malfoy!"
He jumped, startled. Four Third-Year girls from Trelawney's Divination Club stood in a row before him, all beaming.
"Did you read our notes, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Did you like my poem?"
"DId you like the snake drawing?
Draco avoided looking at Blaise or Daphne and kept his eyes on the little fiends before him. "I don't quite—"
"You did open them, didn't you?"
"I told you we shouldn't use pink envelopes!"
"The Club always uses pink envelopes!"
"But boys don't like pink env—"
"Mr. Malfoy?" Wally's voice overrode the bickering. "You did read our notes, didn't you?"
"Yes, yes" Draco lied, just to make them stop. "I liked the snake."
Wally smiled and the other girls gave her jealous looks. "And there was one with, erm, hearts," Draco said randomly.
